Delirium
by Your Undoing
Summary: Someone is heartbroken. Someone else has a potentially cataclysmic secret. And everyone’s favorite doctor has another impossible patient.
1. Chapter 1

Delirium  
by Your Undoing  
Plot summary: Someone is heartbroken. Someone else has a potentially cataclysmic secret. And everyone's favorite doctor has another impossible patient.

Author's Note: And so begins my second multi-chapter House fic! I'm hoping to get more expansive with this one; this time, everyone (except Foreman… sorry, but does anyone actually like him?) gets some time in the spotlight. Please note, this does NOT take place in the same universe as Personal. This takes place in Season 4, so if you're not up to date with House's final decision regarding his team, this will spoil it for you. This does include one small spoiler for future episodes, in that I use Thirteen's name (Remy Hadley, according to spoilers). Also, simply because I dislike Foreman and honestly don't know if he's going to be a permanent member of House's team or not, I've decided to cut him out. Yup, that's all there is to it. I'm sorry if you like him, but I don't and it's my story to tell. Anyway, that's pretty much all you need to know to read this. Enjoy!  
------------------------------

"…Here's your soup, dear."

The woman smiled mechanically, exposing a missing tooth on her lower jaw. She held the plastic bowl out with gloved hands, the same pasty green color as her apron and cap she wore over her hair.

"I hate green."

She cocked her head, the fixed smile tightening slightly. She stretched her arms out further; a few drops of the mushroom bisque sloshed over the edge.

The man across the counter from her took a step back. His dark eyes narrowed beneath heavy eyebrows, which contracted sharply.

"I hate green, get it away. I don't want your green," he moaned. His white sneaker squeaked across the linoleum floor as he stepped further back. The men in the line behind him followed his movement with wary eyes.

"Move along now Mr. Avogadro, this soup is brown. You're holding up the line," the woman purred sweetly. Her smile stretched tighter still, lips barely moving as she spoke.

"No. NO!" he moaned louder, drawing his hands up to cover his face. "They all hate your green too, listen to them! They hate it too! There's too much green!"

The man in line behind him took a tentative step backwards, his already twitching hands shuddering violently. The woman behind the counter narrowed her eyes at those hands, her smile melting off her face. It was replaced by a sneer of disapproval.

"Mr. Avogadro, you're scaring the other patients," the woman purred again, her smile snapping back into place as she turned her attention back to the man across the counter from her. "No one else is speaking, and I certainly don't hear anyone complaining about the color scheme. I don't want to tell the nurse to up your dose again," she added, her smile once again disappearing; this time it was replaced with a sympathetic frown.

"Up the dose… up the dose again and again, that's all you do. You're drugging us to keep us here, that's how it is. I know how it is, I know!" Mr. Avogadro cried. His hands were still clutched to his face as he stumbled blindly backwards.

His shoulder gave a sharp jerk as a pasty green gloved hand gripped it tightly from behind. Its owner smiled the same mechanical way the cafeteria woman had; though her sleek black hair and dark red lipstick suggested she held a significantly higher position in the establishment.

"Get off me!" he yelped, hands scratching uselessly against her grip. His voice echoed off the high ceilings, sending a reverberation back down that sounded both less human and more terrifying. "Get off, get off, get off, get—"

"Mr. Avogadro, that will do," the woman said softly.

"What are you doing to me?!" he yelped louder, voice cracking. His hands jumped down to his legs, and he scratched his knees frantically.

"Mr. Avogadro, everything is fine," the woman said. She motioned for the frozen line of men to continue down the counter. "Would you come with me please?"

Mr. Avogadro ignored her. He was hitting his legs now, pounding his knees and calves.

The woman rolled her eyes. "What in the world—" she began.

"I can't feel my legs," Mr. Avogadro whimpered, grasping at them desperately. "I can't—"

He fell to the floor with a crash.

"Mr. Avogadro?"

"I can't move them," he moaned, tugging at his shoes. "What did you do?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

------------------------------

"Congratulations."

House swiveled around, raising his eyebrows at the woman grinning up at him.

"Did I win something? Oh PLEASE say it's Hannah Montana tickets! Please oh please oh please oh…" he faux-whispered, crossing his fingers and waving them about ostentatiously.

"I have a case for you," Cuddy announced loudly, thrusting a file into his chest with a smirk.

"But mom!" House whined. He arranged his face into a particularly disappointed expression.

"His name is Alex Avogadro. His legs are paralyzed for absolutely no reason that the ER can see."

House rolled his eyes and pushed the file back into Cuddy's arms.

"He has a blood clot. Yippee."

"If it was a blood clot, that would be a reason. I just said there ISN'T a reason… yet. It's your job to figure it out."

He groaned. "No. I'm going home."

Cuddy glared at him sternly. "I am your boss and I say you take this case."

He ignored her, instead turning around and trudging towards the double doors beneath the neon 'EXIT' sign. "See you tomorrow, Cuddles!"

"_House!_" she snapped. The clicking of her shoes echoed loudly across the mostly empty entryway as she scurried to catch up.

"Not listening," House sang as he reached towards the door handle.

Cuddy stopped and crossed her arms. "I forgot to mention one thing," she said, her tone suddenly sing-song like to match his.

House didn't turn around, but his hand froze an inch from the handle.

"Alex is a ward from The Sequoia Hills Mental Institution," she announced triumphantly.

House swiveled around. "Why didn't you say so?" he demanded, plucking the file out of her grasp and flipping it open. His lips curled up in what appeared to be an involuntary smile.

"I always knew you liked crazy people," Cuddy said, raising her eyebrows, "but compared to five seconds ago you seem downright giddy."

"Yeah yeah," House muttered, flipping through the charts in the file. "So there's no evidence of a clot or a stroke... _cool_."

Cuddy nodded vaguely. "So you'll take it?"

"If it gets me out of clinic."

Cuddy cocked her head. "I'll think about it. Now go save the guy."

House made a face. "At your service."

------------------------------

"Raise your hand if you love nuts."

Kutner, Taub, and Hadley jerked their heads up as House pushed in the door, tossing a file down onto the glass table. Kutner shrugged and raised a few fingers into the air, only to lower them upon seeing the disapproving expression on Hadley's face.

"I like nuts," Kutner muttered hesitantly. Taub smirked.

"Good," House boomed, limping over to the whiteboard. "We're treating one."

Hadley's expression was dubious. "Excuse me?"

House smirked at her from over his shoulder, then turned back to the whiteboard. "Alex Avogadro… 25 years old male, suffering from Schizophrenia. He's been living at The Sequoia Hills Mental Institution since he was 17." He backed away from the board to admire his work; it was now titled '_CRAZY GUY_'.

"What's wrong with him?" Taub asked, picking up the file and flipping it open.

"Besides his inability to exercise sanity? Leg paralysis. No evidence of a clot or stroke. Go."

"Tendonitis," Kutner piped up immediately.

House shrugged one shoulder. "Highly doubtful, but MRI his legs when we're done here."

Taub's eyes flickered back and forth across the patient's charts. "How about Multiple sclerosis? If he's already insane, then the neurological symptoms would be hard to detect."

House shrugged the other shoulder. "Cool. MRI his brain, too. Say the nuttiness is a symptom… diagnose from there."

"Could be drugs," Hadley suggested.

"He's been in a mental institution for nearly ten years, how do you suggest he got his hands on narcotics?" Taub asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Those places are full of prescription drugs," she snapped back, holding out her hand for the file. Taub obediently handed it to her with a smile, looking thoroughly un-phased. "…It says here he's taking Risperidone, but who knows what else he got his hands on?"

"Risperidone can cause muscle stiffness and pain," Kutner pointed out, his eyes flicking towards House for approval.

House rolled his eyes at Kutner. "God, you're so needy. Like an Indian Chase."

"We should screen him for drugs," Hadley suggested loudly, cutting off what surely was going to be a comeback from Kutner. "Just to rule it out."

House made a face. "Have you no faith in our government? Unless they're letting him pop pills like candy—"

Taub coughed, grinning at the Vicodin bottle peeking out of House's pocket. House cleared his throat loudly and continued;

"Ahem… If it was drugs making him crazy, he would have suddenly gotten crazy while at the mental ward. Since he was sent there for a reason…" he trailed off, motioning for Hadley to check the folder.

"He tried to kill his gym teacher," she supplied, frowning at the contents of the file.

"See? He was nutty before he got his hands on the Risperidone. And since the paralysis is new, there's no way that it would be onset by a drug he's been taking for eight years."

Hadley looked put-out.

Kutner wrinkled his nose with thought. He looked up suddenly; "What about ALS?"

"Don't be ridiculous," House spat.

Kutner shrank back into his chair. "Fine…" he muttered.

"Lyme disease?" Taub offered.

"Were you not paying attention?" House asked exasperatedly. "He's been crazy for eight years! He would be _long _dead."

Taub shrugged apologetically. House sighed.

"I give up…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. "Just do the MRIs."

"What, tonight?" Kutner asked confusedly.

"Of course," House said as he limped over to the door.

"It's already eight o'clock!"

"Better go fast then."

"Hey wait, where are you going?" Kutner demanded.

House grinned. "Home. I'll check back in the morning. Toodle-oo!"

The three doctors at the table looked around at each other incredulously, but House was already out the door.

------------------------------

"I've known you long enough to be able to tell when something's wrong, Allison."

Cameron looked up at the familiar sounding Australian accent. Chase was difficult to make out in the shadows of the group of lockers next to him, but his signature dirty blonde hair still managed to catch the light.

"Hey," she said softly, drawing her legs up onto the bench next to her. She cocked her head with a tentative smile.

"Hey," he replied; the concern in his voice was apparent. He sat down next to her with a slight sigh. "Are you alright?"

She nodded vigorously; a few locks of blonde hair fell down from her loose ponytail.

"I'm fine," she said lightly. "How are you?"

Chase smirked. "I'm just wondering how you could possibly consider that I would believe that."

"I'm fine," Cameron repeated, fixing Chase with a severe stare.

"No you're not," Chase said quietly, reaching a hand out to cup her chin. "You've been crying."

Cameron quickly averted her eyes.

"Are you happy, Allison?"

Chase's voice was soft and non-accusatory. He scooted down the bench until he was pressed up against her side. He stroked her cheek with his index finger, willing her to meet his eyes again. Cameron bit her lip, but turned her face towards him obediently.

"Yes."

Chase's anxious expression tightened.

"I'm trying as hard as I can to make things perfect between us," he said softly. Cameron nodded, her eyes glittering in the dark as she blinked rapidly.

"I know," she said softly.

Chase opened his mouth as though to say something, but then furrowed his brow and looked away. He sighed, and turned back to meet Cameron's eyes.

"You've been down ever since you stopped working for House. I pretended it was just me being paranoid, and that you were just feeling uprooted, and that things would settle down and get better."

Cameron made a slight croaking sound. Chase held up his hand, taking a deep breath.

"No, listen. I know you. I know you'll never be completely over him."

Cameron looked away sharply, sending a few more strands of blonde hair cascading down to frame her face.

"Allison, I was prepared to sacrifice my pride and be okay with the fact that a tiny portion of your heart would always belong to the jerk that had made us all miserable. I knew I could never have all of you, but I thought I could have most of you. I was _okay _with that, because I _love _you."

Her face was still turned away from him when she responded faintly;

"I'm over him. And I love you too."

Chase wiped at his eyes roughly before bringing his hand down to lean upon his mouth.

"I'm trying to believe that," he croaked into his fingers.

Suddenly, Cameron turned and buried her face in his neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders. Chase drew his arms up around her instinctively, pulling her in tightly.

"Believe me," she whispered into the folds of his shirt.

Chase kissed the top of her head with a reluctant sigh.

"Just prove it to me, alright? I want to see you happy."

"I am happy," she mumbled back. "I'm really happy."

Chase sighed again.

"Really."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who reviewed! I had a particularly fun time with this chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Also, happy new year! May 2008 bring you peace, joy, and lots of Huddy :)  
------------------------------

HAPPY BIRTHDAY  
DR. HOUSE

He stared.

The card—if one could call it that—was impossibly simple; four words on a white sheet of paper. He narrowed his eyes at the Times New Roman font; clearly, the culprit had put some thought into their anonymity. No handwriting, no signature, no return address. Just a white piece of paper, perched jauntily upon his desk.

House snatched it up and glared at it dolefully for only a moment, then crumpled it and tossed it into the trash. He cast his eyes around his empty office suspiciously as he shrugged off his coat. As soon as it crumpled to the floor, he stormed back out of the room.

He earned himself a few wary looks from the scattered nurses and patients that wandered the hallway between his office and Wilson's. House's cane thudded louder against the linoleum floor with every step he took, until he was practically slamming into the ground in front of Wilson's door.

Upon stopping in front of the nameplate bearing the words 'Dr. James Wilson, MD.', House proceeded to bellow;

"HEY!"

He was greeted by a hearty silence. House paused and listened attentively for a moment, then rolled his eyes and bellowed again;

"WILSON!"

This time, the faint sound of Wilson's voice managed to work its through the thick wooden door. House smiled and took a step back, just in time for the door to swing open and Wilson to poke his face out furiously.

"Of course it would be you," he groaned.

"I got a card," House said, raising his eyebrows.

Wilson cocked his head, clearly confused; "That's… great."

"Was it from you?" House asked. He narrowed his eyes accusingly.

"No," Wilson said exasperatedly. "Look, I'm with a patient right now, can we just—"

As though on cue, a soft female voice called out from within his office; "Doctor Wilson? Is everything alright?"

He grimaced. "Yes, Mrs. Saporta, everything is fine," he said over his shoulder exasperatedly; "I'll be right with—"

"Wait. You _didn't _get me a card?" House interjected.

"_No_," Wilson snapped, whipping his head back around to glare at him. "I figured you'd much prefer getting drunk after work, I was planning to treat."

"Oh."

Wilson sighed and withdrew his head back into his office. "Look, I'll talk to you later. Happy birthday, House."

House found himself once again staring at the nameplate on Wilson's door. He scratched a spot above his ear delicately, then shrugged and limped away.

------------------------------

"The MRIs were clear."

House swiveled on the spot and found himself facing Taub. Hadley and Kutner stood a few feet behind him, looking grim. All three of them appeared very tired; Kutner seemed to be having difficulty keeping his eyes open.

"Oh."

Taub smirked. "He's also incredibly crazy."

"Hmmm. Maybe _that's _why he was living in an _insane asylum_!" House gasped, placing a hand over his mouth with feigned surprise.

"Doing more tests is going to be hard," Taub said seriously, the amusement on his face suddenly replaced by a slightly apprehensive expression. "We nearly had to sedate him to keep him still."

"Boo hoo," House grumbled.

"All I'm saying is that we should take this into account for future testing," Taub said with a shrug.

"Quit whining," House snapped. "You said it yourself, you can just use sedatives."

Taub still appeared slightly troubled, but House ignored him. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at Hadley and Kutner expectantly.

Hadley took a step forward. "Craziness aside, he has two new symptoms."

"He threw up," Kutner interrupted. Hadley shot a look at him over her shoulder, then continued;

"He's also having double vision,"

"Alright, so he has a concussion," House said dismissively. "His legs stopped working so he fell and hit his head, two plus two equals four."

"I guess that makes sense," Kutner mumbled, looking slightly disappointed.

House rolled his eyes. "Alrighty then."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Are we done here?"

Hadley looked taken aback. "Regardless of whether or not he has a concussion, don't we need a new diagnosis?"

"No," House snapped. "I was in the middle of something."

"What if he ge-ge-gaaaaaaahhhh gets worse?" Kutner asked, yawning widely.

House looked impatient. "Fine. Five minutes. Go."

"If the vomiting is a symptom, it could be idiopathic intracranial hypertension," Kutner said.

"The MRI was clear," Taub reminded him.

"What about Ménière's disease?" Hadley offered.

"That wouldn't explain the paralysis."

"But Alex is crazy," she said, crossing her arms. "The mind controls the body. What if he thought himself into paralysis?"

House raised his eyebrows, then glanced at his watch.

"Your five minutes are up," he said. "Start him on lipoflavanoid and turn down the lights in his room."

"But we were right in the middle of— that was only _one _min—"

"Don't care," House quipped. "We'll continue this later. Hustle!"

The three doctors stood there for a moment, staring at him with disbelief. After a few seconds, Taub's shoulders twitched in a slight shrug and he walked off. Kutner followed slowly, stifling another yawn.

House raised his eyebrows at Hadley. She was staring, her face tight, at the floor.

"You suck at hustling," he remarked.

Hadley jerked her head up, expression startled. House widened his eyes at her expectantly; she ran a hand through her hair with a flustered expression as she turned and shuffled off after the others.

House narrowed his eyes at her retreating back.

"That's interesting," he muttered.

------------------------------

"Oi."

Cuddy glanced up from the screen of her computer.

"Oh. What?" she asked, her expression slightly apprehensive as House limped towards her desk.

"Is this from you?" he asked, brandishing a crumpled piece of paper. She raised her eyebrows.

"Um… what is it?"

He tossed it at her. She reached a hand up reflexively to catch it an inch in front of her face.

"Ugh…" she groaned, flattening it out on her desk. "Why does this smell so disgusting?"

"It was in the trash," House replied with a smirk. Even as the paper crinkled loudly as Cuddy tried to rub it flat with her knuckles, his eyes never strayed away from her face. "Then I realized it would be harder for you to lie to me if I had it in my hand."

"Uh. Okay," Cuddy said dubiously, eyeing the words on the page with a relatively unreadable expression.

"But you didn't answer my question," House pressed. He moved forward until his cane tapped against the front of her desk. "Did _you _do this?"

"It's a card, House, why does it matter?" she asked wearily, tossing the paper back at him. It caught in the air between them and glided down to land delicately on the floor next to House's foot.

"That's not an answer. It _was _you!" House cried triumphantly, jabbing an index finger at her accusingly.

"Is this what I'm paying you to do? Run around playing detective?" she asked, fixing him with an equally accusatory expression.

"Why a card?" House whined. "You know what would be a lot more fun? You. Me. The broom clo—"

"For the love of God, House!" Cuddy snapped. "You have a patient to take care of. This should _not _be your top priority!"

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. "But really, a card? Come on!"

She glared at him stonily.

"Since when do we have a card-giving relationship?" House asked, making a face.

She raised her eyebrows slowly. House flinched.

"…Right," he muttered. She grinned slightly.

"But still, completely unnecessary," he said.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and stood, straightening a stack of folders.

"So is this conversation!" she hissed.

She maneuvered around the table and shot him a disapproving look as she walked past. House's head followed her across the room until he was forced to either break his neck or swivel around. He swiveled around.

"Where are you going? I'm not done bothering you!" he whined.

"Clinic," she snapped, and opened the door to leave.

House tripped slightly over his twisted position, then caught himself with his cane and hurried after her.

"Hey," he called as she was about to close the door behind her. She turned around dubiously.

"You're pale," he said curiously. "And you're wearing concealer under your eyes. You can't hide those red rims, though."

Cuddy shrank away from his piercing stare, and took a step backwards out into the hall. House grasped her forearm and yanked her back.

"You didn't sleep last night," he said slowly. "Why didn't you sleep last night?"

She flinched and tugged her arm against his grip, but he just dug in his fingers. Her face fell.

"I uh—I had a lot of caffeine before bed and lost track of the time," she said lamely.

House narrowed his eyes at her, but yanked his hand away from her arm.

"Liar," he accused.

Her shoulders twitched in a shrug, and then she was out the door and lost in the crowd of the clinic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Author's Note: Oof, sorry this update took a little while. You know, going back to school and all that. Anyway, thank you for reviewing! I love that fuzzy warm feeling of waking up to an inbox full of review notifications. Heheh. So here's chapter 3… the plot thickens!  
------------------------------

Cuddy waited until she was surely out of Doctor House's line of sight before she allowed herself to sigh heavily. Her shoulder sagged as she ran a slightly quivering hand through her hair, clenching her eyes tightly shut.

Upon opening her eyes, she found herself inches away from Doctor Cameron. Unable to stop herself in time, she smacked into Cameron's shoulder with a hearty thud.

"I'm so sorry Doctor Cameron," Cuddy said as she stumbled back, the color rising in her cheeks with embarrassment.

Perhaps it was just the lack of color that her once-brown hair supplied, but Cameron appeared particularly pale as she blinked with surprise.

"Oh. No—it's fine," she stammered.

Cuddy smiled tentatively. "So what brings you to the clinic?"

Cameron blinked again, her mouth slightly open.

"What? Oh. Just… just checking things out," she said with a nervous smile.

Cuddy smiled back curiously.

"Alright, well… just make sure you don't neglect your duties in the ER," she said. "I need to see some patients, but I'm sure I'll see you again later."

Cameron nodded weakly. "Yeah. Okay. Well— see you then."

Cuddy smiled again and nodded back, cast her one more slightly curious look, then walked off towards the nurse's station. Cameron watched her as she picked up a file from atop a rather tall pile then disappeared into Exam Room Two.

Cameron's breath sounded ragged as she exhaled the breath she had been unconsciously holding since running into the administrator. She glanced around the bustling room uncertainly.

"What are you doing?"

She jumped. A hand was suddenly gripping her shoulder too tightly for comfort. She swiveled her head around to see Chase standing beside her, his expression disapproving. The muscles in his jaw twitched as one of her hands instinctively jumped to her shoulder, attempting to pry his fingers away.

"I'm just standing," she said, then her voice grew louder; "what the hell are _you _doing?"

Her raised voice seemed to bring him back to his senses. His eyes widened, and she felt his fingers unclench around her shoulder. His hand fell limply down to his side, and she massaged her aching shoulder with slightly jumpy fingers.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"I was just checking things out. I spent a lot of time here over the past three years, I wanted to check in," she said, blushing slightly.

Chase nodded slowly, but his expression was still dubious.

"After our conversation last night I'm just surprised you would decide to—"

"To what?" she snapped, her voice rising angrily. The color blooming on her cheeks turned a deeper red as she clenched her fists, stretching up to her full height. "To live my own life? Think for myself? You can't control me, Chase! I'll do what I want to and if I want to stand in the clinic then I'll stand in the clinic!"

The people around them hurried away with disapproving looks—a nurse rolled her eyes and disappeared into an exam room. Chase gaped at her with wide eyes, astounded.

"I don't want to control you, I just thought you would make a little more effort not to seem—"

"What, like I care? I _care_, Robert! I _care _about this place! These people!"

"I care too," he said in a low voice, his expression tight. "Allison please, you're making a scene. I'm sorry, alright?

She looked torn between shouting and crying. She jerked her head in what could have been a nod or a shake, then hugged her arms across her chest and strode away.

Chase stared around at the stunned nurses and patients. Someone in the waiting room was laughing; the high pitched sound contrasted sharply with what was otherwise complete silence. For a moment the doctor's mouth hung open in the direction that Cameron had disappeared to—then, slowly, he turned around and walked jerkily away.

------------------------------

"How are you feeling, Alex?"

Hadley blushed; the words had come out nervous and meek sounding. She gripped her clipboard tightly, hanging cautiously in the doorway that lead into the dimly lit hospital room. One of her feet twitched involuntarily backwards as Alex raised his eyes to stare at her.

"How are you feeling Alex?" he repeated.

"That's what I asked you," she said blankly.

"I don't knowwwww," he whined, wagging his head back and forth; his glittering eyes never left Hadley's face. "How am I feeling, Alex?"

"My name is Doctor Hadley," she supplied, taking a few jerky steps into the room. "I need to know if you're feeling any better."

"No," he sneered. "No sirree Bob, nooooooooooo."

"You're still throwing up?" Hadley probed. "How's your vision? Can you see me alright?"

Alex smirked. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Hadley raised her eyebrows; both his hands remained tucked firmly beneath the blankets.

"A billion," he announced loudly. He smiled so widely that the expression seemed to lose any sort of positive feelings; the sneer seemed much too big for his face, distorting his features. "I'm holding up a billion fingers. A fillion. A triiiiiiiiiiiillion. A trillion fingers and a trillion everythings."

"That's double vision," Hadley said, scribbling a note on her clipboard.

"It's trillion vision," Alex replied confidently.

"Right," she muttered. "Well, we'll start you on some new medication very soon."

"Medication?" Alex moaned. "I hate medication. It's the stuff they use to make us crazy over there at the loony bin. You might not believe it but without those crazy pills I'm really quite sane. Sane in the membrane!"

Hadley lowered her eyes and turned sharply towards the door. Alex's lips parted in a sneer.

"Stop acting so scared the time Alex," he said, wrinkling his nose.

A foot away from the door, Hadley froze.

"I'm not scary," Alex said. "Insane as can be, flat-out crazy, but you shouldn't be that scared. Whoo-wee, you are _scared_."

Hadley sucked her cheeks in until she looked almost comically fish-like. "I'm not scared," she muttered. "You shouldn't be either."

Then she walked out the door as quickly as she could. Barely audible above the bustling noise of the hallway, she muttered;

"Shit. _Shit. _Shit shit shit shit shit shit—"

"Excuse me doctor."

She jumped. Her auburn hair flipped across her shoulders as she jerked her head towards the owner of the stern voice with which she had been addressed. Her eyes fell upon a woman with a face to match her voice—black hair pulled back in a severe bun, her eyebrows standing out prominently against her pale skin; the woman was clearly a relative. She looked not unlike she had swallowed a lemon.

"Yes?" Hadley said, the word coming out slightly slurred in her surprise.

"I'm Cheryl Avogadro," the woman said. Hadley fought to keep her expression neutral; the woman clearly had no idea how comical her appearance seemed, her eyeballs bulging in what was clearly supposed to be a serious face. It wasn't helped by her voice, which was loud and sharp enough to almost be considered shouting.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Doctor Hadley, one of Alex's doctors."

Hadley stuck out her hand, and the woman gripped it tightly, giving it one sharp shake up and down before letting it go.

"I apologize for any trouble my son has been giving you," Mrs. Avogadro barked. She didn't look very contrite, but Hadley managed to compose her face into an expression of compassion.

"His condition is one that we're used to seeing," Hadley said with a smile. "Your son is in good hands."

"So what's wrong with him?" Mrs. Avogadro asked, narrowing her eyes at the glass door which led into her son's room.

"We… are still testing him at the moment," Hadley admitted.

Mrs. Avogadro made a noise that sounded like a combination of disapproval and amusement; "Well, I'll let you get on with that then."

Hadley smiled encouragingly, made an inarticulate noise of agreement, and walked away as quickly as her heels would carry her.

------------------------------

"It's not working."

Hadley's voice sounded rather strained, and her skin looked slightly more pale than it always did, but House merely groaned and turned to glare at the whiteboard.

"What next?" he said, his back still to his team.

"Maybe the vomiting and vision stuff are due to a migraine," Kutner said from the table, massaging his own head as he spoke.

"Why would he have a migrane?" Taub asked, looking across at him with a dubious expression.

"Emotional stress," Kutner said simply. "He's in a new environment, and we already know it doesn't take much to send him over the rainbow."

"So the migraine would explain the vomiting and double vision and leave us with paralysis and possible psychosis," Taub concluded, looking rather impressed.

House had turned around and was now facing Hadley, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Sounds fine," she said softly, jerking her shoulders in a quick shrug. House narrowed his eyes at her before turning to face the other two.

"The migraine is sweet, but we're missing something."

Kutner wrinkled his nose. "What?"

House wrinkled his nose back. "The guy's a nut; I'm sure he has all kinds of symptoms he hasn't told us about."

Kutner and Taub's confused expressions relaxed at House's reasoning. Hadley, however, pulled her crossed arms tighter across her middle, still lingering by the doorway.

"I'll talk to him," House said suddenly.

"Pardon?" said Taub. "I thought you hated talking to patients."

"Details," House said with a wave of his hand. "But first… I want to talk to _you_."

He pointed both of his index fingers at Hadley, cocking an eyebrow mysteriously. Hadley's face remained firmly unmoving, but Taub and Kutner raised their eyebrows at each other and rose in silence. They exited quickly, and House's eyes followed them through the glass walls of the office until they had disappeared down the hall.

"So," he said.

"What?" Hadley asked. Her innocently wide eyes glittered.

House smirked. "You've been weird lately."

"No I haven't," she snapped quickly. An eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but the rest of her face remained guarded.

"Don't even try to play that with me," House said, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. "You have issues with this patient. Spill."

"He's insane, what's so wrong with being a little uneasy?" she snapped again. Though the defiance in her voice didn't waver, Hadley lowered her gaze to glance around at the floor. House's lips curled into a satisfied smile.

"You're hiding something."

Hadley was silent, staring at a fleck of mud on the carpet. She nudged it with the toe of her shoe.

House raised his eyebrows. "Your mother died of Huntington's."

No response.

"Huntington's often presents with psychosis in its final stages."

No response.

"I think he reminds you of her," he concluded quietly, his voice one of subdued triumph.

Hadley jerked her head up. Her eyes were red, the rims puffy and wet; a tear slid down her face to cling to her jaw.

"You're a real jerk sometimes," she said hoarsely.

Before House could respond, the door was swinging shut behind her.


End file.
